


A Selfish Second Option

by PEASGaming64



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Also some Lucifendi later if I keep writing chapters, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And a whole bunch of child Kat being Cute!, Des/Paul if you want it to be, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, I'll update tags as I go, If so then there just been platonically living with each other for a decade, Just interconnected oneshots about growing up with Uncles Des & Paul, Like the answer to that question Isn't This but I can dream, Listen if I have to be the person to write post-unwound Paul then I will write post-unwound Paul, Multi, Not sure why you wouldnt tho, Sort of the anime never specifically says, This is cute platonic found family stuff so your choice to interpret them that way, a dash of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PEASGaming64/pseuds/PEASGaming64
Summary: After the disappearance on Hershel Layton, his daughter Flora was not prepared to take care of her siblings alone. Instead, she found help from the unlikeliest of places.Canon Divergent AU giving Des and Paul the development they deserve post-Unwound Future as the puzzle fam's Weird Uncles.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1: Long Lost Letters

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write more of my draft before posting but honestly the Drownout 2020 movement has given me a lot of courage to go forward with my first chapter now! Likely a bad decision considering the second chapter is the part giving me the most trouble right now but YOLO I guess.
> 
> Also, can you tell that Des and Paul are two of my favourite characters in the series because They Are. The Des/Paul ship is criminally underrated but I don't know how to write romance only fluff found family stuff. Most of the stories in this are going to be fluffy one shots in a roughly chronological order, and please comment I thrive off attention. Will have more cute kid things in the next chapters, but I wanted to establish the most AU part of the fic first.

Flora would admit that it wasn’t the most well-advised plan she could come up with. In fact, it was best described as a selfish one.

With the disappearance of Hershel Layton came the query of who would look after Alfendi and Katrielle and, as guilty as it made her feel, she couldn’t do it. She had just finished her degree, had no stable employment, no savings, and no room in her apartment. She could not care for two kids.

But someone needed to look after her siblings.

Rosa offered because she considers looking after things Hershel forgot about as roughly ninety percent of her job, but Flora couldn’t impose this on her. The most she asked for was help finding someone, searching through her father’s office, anything to find just a handful of options. Flora took up a week of her time, scouring her father’s office from corner to corner, but it was entirely worth it once they managed to find Hershel’s address book. From there she had a variety of numbers she could call to find someone to help. She whittled the list down to two options.

One: Uncles Randall, Henry, and Aunt Angela. She had called them with the news as soon as she was certain Hershel was truly missing, and they were heartbroken. The Monte d’Or trio was also by no means strangers to the family, Hershel has taken the family up to visit them on more than one occasion. Katrielle and Randall got on like a house on fire, and Alfendi didn’t completely hate Henry and Angela.

But they were in Monte d’Or, the city had no school, was mostly a tourist attraction with little activities for long term residents, let alone children. 

And Flora couldn’t leave London.

It was so selfish, she knew so! She couldn’t bear to let Al and Kat live so far away from her, couldn’t rationalize the idea of not being able to visit them at the drop of a hat. She had just lost her dad and she couldn’t lose her siblings too. They needed family more than ever now.

At first, she thought Monte d’Or was the only option, but skimming the address book she found an entry under D that may mean another option for her.

Des & Paul.

It was really only really noticeable because Hershel usually wrote full names, and every entry was only for one person. Even Clark and Brenda Triton were listed separately under T, but for this one entry, the pattern was broken. Two first names together, with an address in the London Industrial District, not far from where her own new flat was located. There was a small notation beside it too, she wasn’t surprised to find that little inscription to be a puzzle.

It wasn’t the hardest puzzle to solve, then again she supposed everyone in the family was relatively proficient in puzzles, it may have just been to discourage anyone outside the family from investigating. It directed her to one of the many shelves in the Professor’s office, where nestled among the archaeological journals she found a worn notebook with a split spine, likely due to the large number of papers taped into the book. They must have taken up a quarter of the book’s thickness.

Letters. Dozens of them taped into the book.

The first page was one, dated a few short months before she joined the developing Layton family. She had heard the story of the Azran Sanctuary and the excitement she had missed from Luke, including the existence of the Jean Descole that permeated every corner of the story. The Professor was always more hesitant to discuss it, but she was certain receiving letters from the story’s redeemed villain would have been mentioned.

She shouldn’t have assumed. 

It was an invasion of privacy to read the letter the man- he just signed the letters as Des- had sent. It wasn’t just that it was addressed to Hershel and not her, the entire piece was very self-reflective. The letter was less about talking to Hershel and more about rationalizing his own behavior.

_I have no idea if this letter will even reach you, Hershel. I may never even mail it at all, I just need to direct all this at someone._

And to make the discovery more awkward, after each letter, without fail, Hershel wrote his own thoughts about the correspondence. The entries weren’t exactly addressed to Des, but for every letter, Hershel received he wrote his own reflection. He sounded frustrated in a number of them.

_Couldn’t Des have given me an address to write back too?_

It went on like this for about a year, up until a fortnight after the Dove terrorist attack, where the letters and entries changed a bit. Des was still writing dutifully as ever, likely unaware of how closely connected Hershel was to current events, but now there was another set of correspondence being received.

_Layton,_  
_I’m just writing to keep you from doing something bloody stupid, don’t act dumb about it either. 10 years ago you almost died looking for answers and now you have them. Sequentially, you now want justice, I’m going to tell you now; Don’t go any damn further. Not alone, and not while you have a little brat to look after. Flora’s a good kid, don’t let her be put in harm’s way in the name of justice of whatever else it is that guides you to these stupid decisions._  
_Leave that finicky little trait to me for a while._  
_I don’t have much to lose, now do I? I’m going to take Hawks down, and if you don’t bloody interfere I’ll keep you updated on how it goes. Write back with any info or commentary you have, but please, purely business Layton._  
_We’re not friends, we just have a common enemy._  
_Don Paolo,_

There was a puzzle attached, and she solved it quickly to find an address. However, considering the letter’s age, it was most likely long out of date for getting in contact with the not so good Don, and it didn’t match up with the entry in the address book. Layton’s succeeding journal entry recorded the rationale for the puzzle and a note to write Paolo with a thank you. 

The next letter from Paolo proved how well that went over, such colorful language...

She continued flipping through the book, it seemed both men wrote monthly letters to Hershel, which he dutifully journaled about. The next point to truly stand out to her was the day a double-page had a letter pasted in on either side, with only the first page dated. She turned to the journal entry on the next page.

_A letter each from Des and Paul today, quite the coincidence. The bigger coincidence however is the contents, each complaining about the renter of the warehouse next door to theirs. A “mumbling gremlin that doesn’t bother to wash the oil stains from his clothes” in warehouse number four, and a “rejected theatre nerd scream-singing The Phantom of the Opera” in number three._  
_I do hope this is just a coincidence, but knowing my luck the bad feeling I have is likely well warranted._

Flora could not begrudge her father of that instinct.

She skimmed the journal entries further. After one month it was confirmed the two were indeed neighbors, each referring to the other by name, Des and Paul, in their next letters. There were also noticeably fewer insults about each other. 

The letters then were ostensibly becoming more filled with the two discussing their neighbor until Paolo gave Layton a new address to write to on the off chance of updates.

_Decided to get a bigger warehouse to share with Des, rents cheaper and he at least warns me before I pour oil into my coffee._

Following this was the only occasion she found her father journaling in the book back to back. The first dated the day the letter arrived.

_I believe it's about time I visited Des and Paul in person. I don’t think they’ve realized that they’re both writing to me yet. It would be rude to let that misconception lie any longer than it already has._

Dated a handful of days later was the next entry.

_Seeing Des for the first time in years was surprising, mostly for him. Paul finding out he was sharing a warehouse with my brother was a different breed of surprise altogether. However, they do seem to get along, a rare thing for either of them to do with anyone as far as I can tell. I don’t think I have ever seen Des as relaxed as he is with Paul, but then I likely don’t have a good frame of reference for Des in a stress-free environment. At least they also don’t seem to be up to anything frighteningly illegal._  
_I told them they could expect me to write letters back to them now._

The number of letters sent slowed down, and half the time the letter received was signed by the pair. Layton stopped journaling about them, instead, he quickly wrote little notes for each one, Flora presumed them topics of discussion her father could bring up in his reply. She noticed how frequently Katrielle and Alfendi were mentioned in those notes after they joined the family, alongside the instances of her own name quite often.

  
She wondered what exactly her father said. Notes like ‘Flora’s latest project’ and ‘Kat’s new book’ weren’t as helpful so long after they were made.  
Of course, she at least got to read the other half of those discussions, Des and Paolo seemed to enjoy hearing about her and her siblings. They congratulated Hershel on Kat’s first steps, gave advice on Al’s anger problem, and asked about the progress on her degree.

Would they be willing to look after Kat and Al?

The only way to get an answer was to ask.

So, one Friday morning she entrusted Al and Kat to Rosa, filled a small shoulder bag with an address book and journal, and drove to a large warehouse in the London Industrial District. It wasn’t a half-bad place, the street was quiet, the warehouse stood apart from surrounding buildings and the area seemed split right in between the industrial businesses and the neighboring residential area where her own apartment was. Looking up she could see windows on the left side of the wall, three stories up, assumedly a loft as part of the warehouse. That sounded like Paolo’s dream when she considered the little she knew about him.

She would admit, approaching the door took a herculean amount of effort, and as she stood before it she needed to take a moment to catch her breath, plan what she would say. She hadn’t seen Don Pao- Paul, in 10 years and never even met Des, yet here she was about to ask them to look after the most important part of her life.

Through the door she could hear a bustle of activity, at least she knew they were home. A radio was playing music at full blast, the newer rock n' roll stuff that was becoming increasingly popular. Despite the radio, she could also hear the clattering of metal and the noise of whistling air, a welding torch maybe?

Seems she did pick up her Dad’s tendency to distract himself with puzzles.

She knocked on the door, but the sound inside the warehouse didn’t change at all. She knocked louder.

“Paul! Someone’s at the door!”

“You get it, you’re closer!”

“Can’t, replacing the brake fluid!”

“Okay, okay I’ll grab it!”

The sound of rushed footsteps could be heard, the twist of a lock clicking, and the door was yanked open.

Paul had changed a lot since she had seen him ten years ago. He didn’t look as tired, his hair and mustache under the welding helmet he wore, while still spiked, were groomed with a softer angle. The stained, threadbare forest green sweater he wore was filled with rips and holes, most from general wear, but one torn patch on the right arm was almost certainly from getting caught on machinery. His name- Paul, not Paolo- was embroidered in a small, looping yellow font on the front. She was strangely taken aback seeing him in casual wear, though it made perfect sense, she just didn’t know what to expect.

And it seemed she was the last thing Paul expected beyond the door. In the moment it took her to take in his appearance he had in return started processing who she was.

“Flora?” She barely heard him, it was less said and more breathed out in shock. The sound of someone dropping a heavy metal object echoed inside, Des must have been listening in, although how he heard Paul at all was another question.

“Hello Paul, I am sorry to intrude but I need to talk to you and Des both. It’s, “She wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it. Dire? Unfortunate? “Urgent,”

Through the doorway she could see someone, Des, rolling out from underneath the front side of a car on a low trolley. She was sure there was another word for it, but it was hardly her area of expertise, she would take a needle and thread over wrenches and wires any day.   
Des’ hair was tied up in a tight bun and his face had noticeable oil stains, or perhaps brake fluid based on the yelling before Paul answered the door?. He quickly began wiping his hands off with a rag as he looked to her in the doorway over Paul’s shoulder.

“Hello, Uncle,”

“I think you best come inside,” Des stood, swiped at his face with the rag and tossed it onto the trolley. “How do you take your tea?”

“The sweeter the better,”

“A floral blend?” He smiled at his own joke, she chuckled. 

“Yes actually,”

Paul seemed to finally recover from his shock and stepped out of the doorway. The warehouse was a lot to take in as she walked through. The back left corner had two rooms built atop each other jutting out, the top floor walkway on the back wall had a solid flooring and remained so as it turned the right corner. The stairs on the back wall up to the walkway also had a solid foundation.

The ground floor was the busiest area, currently, a car was jacked up in the center of the room, which Des had been working on. Spare parts were piled on shelves to the right of the door, the corner to the left of the door seemingly dedicated to the power tool supply. Just behind that, against the wall, the jutting out room made a selection of musical instruments were kept. Drums, guitars, and a well worn upright piano. On the back wall leaning against the stairs was a couch and low table. To the right where the right corner of the foundation turned a counter had been built for a small kitchenette area.

Looking up to the second floor there was little in the way of decoration, but the doorway to the loft on the left was there, with windows looking out into the warehouse. On the right side, however, was the piece de resistance of the whole warehouse. 

The Bostonius hung far above it all. 

Or at least, part of it. It seemed that only the front of the airship had been salvaged and was now suspended above, overlooking the warehouse. She could likely get in if she wanted to.

Paul slumped onto the couch at the warehouse’s far end as Des busied himself at the kitchenette with a small kettle.

Paul sighed and looked at her. “I take it you don’t have good news?”

She felt as though Paul was assessing her reaction. She didn’t bother hiding anything. “Father is… missing.”

Paul sat up straighter, she heard a clatter over at the kitchenette.

“He and Luke left for their latest adventure three months ago, they haven’t sent any letters in a month and a half. They weren’t very forthcoming about what they were looking into before they left either, everyone is trying to track them down but there's no trail yet. Luke’s wife Marina went after them but there’s silence on that end too. I think they bit off more than they could chew.”

Silence hung in the room for a moment. 

“Shit.” Trust Paul to fill the void.

The kettle whistled.

“I’m glad you came to tell us Flora, but I’m afraid we don’t know any more about what he was looking into than you would.” Des approached the table with the tea kettle and three simple mugs. “I’m surprised you found us at all, we told Hershel not to mention us to you kids.”

Flora pulled out the two books in her bag. “I noticed your names in his address book, and he saved the letters you both sent him. I think he wanted someone in the family to stumble upon it someday,”

“Of course he did,” Paul barely steeped his tea at all before taking a swig. “I know he disliked the request we made,”

“We just didn’t want you kids connected to us, we both aren’t exactly great influences.”

“About that. I didn’t come just to give you this news, I would have, don’t get me wrong there, but there was a reason I was reading through dad’s address book.” She sighed and held her head in her hands. It wasn’t polite but suddenly the weight of just how tired she was hit her all at once. “I just got my degree, I have no savings, no stable employment, and a tiny apartment. I can’t take care of Kat and Al yet.”

Des figures out the implication first. “You want us to take care of them?” He was as still as a statue as he asked, she barely saw his mouth move,

“No, no, that's out of the question, what did we just say about being bad influences!” Paul in contrast wouldn't stop moving, knocking Des’ shoulder and gesturing his hands around wildly.

“If you really can’t look after them, that's fine, I know I am asking so much of you but my only other option is to send them to live with Randall in Monte d’Or and I can’t leave London. I know it's selfish but I can’t abandon my siblings like that.”

Des seemed to stop breathing entirely. Paul looked at him concerned. Des must have a sore spot.

“I am asking so, so much, but I at least only live a few blocks away, I’ll be here as much as I can to help, but they can’t take losing any more family,” The question of whether she could was left unsaid.

Des finally seemed to regain motor functions and put his hand on Flora’s shoulder. “I’m willing.”

“Des we don’t have space-”

“Clear out the study, I’ll sort through the crap in the Bostonius and affix it to the wall, that's two bedrooms sorted.

“We can’t raise kids here.”

“We won’t know until we try, and I’d say we owe Hershel,”

“And if they don’t like us? They haven’t met us before and what, we just drop them off here and see if they start calling us their uncles!”

Flora butted in. “Katrielle probably will, she’ll love you both in an instant, Alfendi will take time to warm up but you’re both good people, he’s just a grumpy personality. If there really is a problem I won’t be far.”

Paul slumped deeper into the couch. “Ok, ok, we’ll try, just, don’t hate us if it doesn’t work out.”

“That's all I could ask of you.”

She had a second option, a stupid, selfish option.


	2. Uncles Acquired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day comes for Katrielle and Alfendi Layton to meet their uncles. Flora is understandably anxious and desperate to make this work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH Take it! Take it! This is so short but I just want to move onto writing cute fluff next chapter and this establishment was needed before I could.

Three days were spent preparing the warehouse for its new residents. The Bostonius was affixed to the wall of the warehouse, it gave Des an excuse to finally install the false wall to hide the old hallway and his own room from the main deck that was now being retrofitted into a lavish bedroom. 

Downstairs, Paul cleared out the study, an odd L-shaped room where one would have to peer around the left side of the doorway to see most of the room. He moved out everything but the large ebony desk that could be seen from said doorway, the only piece of decor or furniture along that wall. 

They invited Flora along on their shopping trip to find furniture, a wise decision considering Paul and Des could never seem to agree on what they thought each kid would want. With her help, the hardest part was fitting everything into Paul's beat-up ute. 

Des and Paul finally got to meet Alfendi and Katrielle Layton at noon on a Tuesday three months after the disappearance of their father and four days after Flora was first welcomed into the shared warehouse residence. Flora held Kat's hand as they walked in with Alfendi behind them. 

The first thing Paul noticed was just how tall Alfendi was, the 17-year-old must have had a full two inches on his father, top hat included. It made his gloomy appearance all the more imposing.

The first thing Des noticed was the wondrous expression on Kat's face as she looked up to The Bostonius on the wall. He could assume it would be her room then.

Alfendi wasn’t, or at least didn’t want to look like, the easily impressed sort. Instead, he crossed his arms and put a genuine effort into looking as displeased as possible. When Kat tore her eyes away from The Bostonius to see his dark expression she just pouted and reached up to grab his hand. After all, no one could look grumpy while holding her hand, she was far too cute for that.

It seemed Flora and Paul agreed. Flora’s snicker was a familiar noise to the young girl, and Paul’s guffaw, while new, was one she could instantly place a level of fondness in. Des seemed to instead focus on giving Al a smirk over the incident.

“Kat, Al, these are your uncles, Des and Paul.”

Kat had already had it all explained to her. Dad was going to be away a bit longer than expected so her uncles volunteered to keep an eye on her and Al until Flora had enough room for them. Al had pointed out that they were old enough to look after themselves, but Flora shot it down. Kat didn’t see what was so bad about staying with her Uncles, sure she hadn’t met them before, but that just meant they were new friends to make. Alfendi hadn’t met them yet either, so he had no room to judge! His argument with Flora hadn’t helped his position either.

They were here now, so she would be sure to make the best of it. “Hello, I’m Katrielle!” She let go of Flora’s hand just quickly enough to grab the hem of her dress and courtesy like Rosa had taught her.

Alfendi just huffed. She tugged on his arm, he sighed and got his hand out of her grasp,   
“I’m Al,” was his grumble as he went back to crossing his arms.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Des stared down Al as he said it, but it wasn’t with the fake smile that Alfendi expected. Al was sure his standoffish display would sour the mood of the other man like it usually did for his father, but instead, Des looked him in the eye with a smile that seemed to only grow more fond at Alfendi’s nihilistic display.

Paul leaned down to shake Kat’s hand. “Especially you little lady,” Kat giggled as she shook Paul’s hand. It was the same size as her father’s but that was where the similarities ended. Paul’s hands were rougher, calloused, and seemingly perpetually stained with oil at the edges of his fingernails.

Des and Paul were different. It was the one avoidable fact of this situation. Des and Paul were different from Hershel Layton, those differences hung in Flora’s mind as she introduced Katrielle and Alfendi to their uncles. Regardless of what Des and Paul said, the true test of whether this option was viable was how Alfendi and Katrielle would react.

She knew Katrielle would avoid appearing vulnerable around her uncles. She knew Alfendi would respond to any attempts to get closer to him with open hostility. 

She knew she would do anything to have her Dad’s advice right now. That objectivity and processed rationale as he talked her through whatever problem she faced the same way he talked a class through the histories of ancient civilization and the decisions that brought their rise and fall, this was the time she needed it most. 

But her Dad wasn’t here, and this problem couldn’t wait until he got back. She needed to make decisions now and roll with the consequences that proceeded, because sitting around waiting wasn’t going to cut it and it wasn’t what was best for Kat and Al.

Kat and Al needed stability, and she couldn’t offer that right now. Des and Paul could.

They ordered lunch for the group, fish and chips. Alfendi immediately claimed every slice of lemon as his before Paul could even begin to dish up his plate. Kat meanwhile worked out the exact ratio of people in the table that wanted calamari, to see if there would be extra for her. Des made sure that everyone at the table had napkins to wipe their hands on, giving Paul the stink eye as he handed one to him. Flora busied herself with getting cups of water together for everyone.

Kat asked questions about the airship, and Des asked if she wanted it to be her room. Alfendi grumbled about his room until he saw the ebony desk through the doorway. Flora asked about the variety of musical instruments in the corner to which Des and Paul explained that they both dabbled with a ‘few’ instruments. Alfendi made a small comment approving of Paul’s CD collection. Des tried to teach Kat a few scales on his old piano, to which she exclaimed that singing was way better.

Flora busied herself with the still packaged furniture as Des and Paul grew closer to the kids. They were so enraptured with their new housemates they hadn’t noticed her separating from the group to get the job done, but this was the least she could do for them right now. They were keeping her family together.

Of course, Des and Paul got to work as soon as they noticed what she was doing. Des and Paul first hauled the biggest pieces of Kat’s furniture up to The Bostonius. There was an hour-long debate between mechanics about how to build a bed ensued. Kat was happy enough to sit with the instruction booklet and explain what it said. Des and Paul never actually got to look, but in the end, the four-poster bed was functional and Kat’s dresser would be just fine without legs for the night.

After all the excitement she was happy enough to have a nap in the newly built bed as soon as they were done. Al’s room went twice as fast, the diagrams in the instruction booklet worth their weight in gold. Alfendi spent the time randomly plucking at a guitar he found among the musical instruments. Paul gave him a few pointers on how to play as he screwed in the bed frame’s headboard.

Flora considered taking a couch for the night to make sure Kat and Al were okay, but she trusted Des and Paul and didn’t want them to think otherwise. She didn’t live far away, one phone call and she could be at the warehouse in five minutes.

A sleep-groggy Kat woke up long enough to say goodbye. Al looked up from one of his just unpacked books to scowl at her. 

She couldn’t sleep when she got home. She sat watching the phone expecting a call to come through.

The night passed in silence.

She visited again that morning before going to work. Des was up and happy enough to let her in and offer her breakfast. 

“Kat was up with the sun, so she helped me make pancakes.”

They were, of course, very nice pancakes. Two batches of them, one very sweet with blueberries and added sugar at Kat’s request, another without the sugar and instead served with dried slices of banana. Odd, but that apparently was how Paul liked it.

Kat was happy to see her and calm as can be. Alfendi and Paul both weren’t up yet. Perfectly normal for Al, and from what Des said, the standard for Paul too.

Maybe she didn’t need to be so worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, I have the job of establishing my AU out of the way and I can now jump right into the fluff, expect the next chapter much sooner than this one because the fluff is what I'm most excited to write.


	3. Control Panel Circuitry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al is clearly hesitant around his new uncles, but if there's one thing capable of helping him break through that shell, it's Kat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are now into the fluff I dedicated this fic to in the first place.

Katrielle Layton was an 11-year-old hyperactive ball of energy with no discernable fear. This meant safety became a large concern in the warehouse. First, the power tools found their home in the cabinets below their usual tables, locked up tight with a key kept on a high shelf in Paul and Des’ loft. Second, they retrofitted the guard rails on the upper walkways to remove the large gaps beneath the bottom rail. Third, the car creeper was now left hanging up on the wall by the power tools’ desk. They hadn’t even thought of the risk it posed until after Katrielle mentioned that it looked like a skateboard.

The fortunate thing was Alfendi kept an eye on her at almost all times. Despite their differences in both personality and age Al and Kat were as close as can be. The tougher part was that Alfendi avoided the main room, on most occasions Kat would play with him in his room, and Alfendi, whilst never outright saying so, had made it known he preferred Paul and Des stayed out. Whenever they ducked in he was already up and approaching the door to meet them at the doorway and due to the way the room was laid out, that meant they could never see around the corner to observe most of the room. The most they ever really saw was the ebony desk that sat in front of the doorway. 

So Des and Paul made note of everything they could see on that desk. Alfendi could be a complete shut-in at times and they needed to make every interaction with him outside count. Des made note of the books first. One shelf of the desk had some worn children’s books, which Des had heard Al read to Kat before. There was also an ever-changing pile of true crime and murder mystery books. The final sort he would find was the occasional psychology textbooks, they only ever appeared one at the time, and one could stick around on the desk for weeks, gradually filling with sticky notes as Al read through it. Then upon finishing it, Des could observe the small notes be removed sporadically as a pile of paper notes built up beside the book. A week into this endeavor Alfendi would empty the paper waste bin in his room, its top filled with colored paper, and a new textbook would appear on the desk. 

One day Paul came through to find the door to Alfendi’s room wide open. He ducked his head in and confirmed that yes, the kid’s room was a complete mess around the corner like he had expected, and no, he wasn’t in there. He wasn’t in the workshop either, and now that he thought about it, neither was Kat. There were only two other places they could be. As he reached the top of the stairs he could see through the window into the loft he shared with Des, who was asleep on the couch, so no kids were in there either. Looking instead to the right he could see through the window of the Bostonius control deck, where he could see crimson curls looking over the control panel. Alfendi hadn’t noticed him through the window yet.

Paul always thought the Bostonius door could look quite imposing, or at least it could have before Kat drew up a little paper sign to leave taped to the door with her “office hours”. It took Kat a lot of convincing from Des, that no, being open till 3 AM doesn’t get you out of your 9 PM bedtime. 

He knocked on the door, the metallic thump was a soft sound traveling through the building. He was about to knock again when the door was pulled open by a very flustered Kat.

“Please don’t be mad!” She had been crying- what was going on? “I didn’t mean to break it!”

Alfendi called out to her before Paul could say anything. “You didn’t break anything Kat, please calm down,” 

Paul knelt down to Kat’s level and put a hand on her shoulder. “Your brother’s right Kat, calm down and tell me what’s happening,” 

“I was playing with the control deck- Uncle Des said I could- but I broke it, I saw electricity!”

“Electri- like a spark? Only live wires in here should be for the lights,”

“Clearly not, there is a spark here.” Alfendi gestured to the left side of the control panel, where a number of dials were situated. Alfendi pushed a button on the right side of the control and sparks flew from the groove of a dial’s track on the left.

“Let me just grab my gloves,”

“Got them here,” Sure enough, Alfendi tossed the pair of rubber gloves to him. “Sorry, grabbed them when Kat got me,”

“That's not something to apologize over kid, now lets see if I remember where this hatch is,” He knelt down and began scanning the underside of the control panel, finding one bottom panel with a deeper recess in the grooves between them. “Bingo!”

The inside was dusty, but not as dusty as he remembered it being the last time Des worked on the control panel, cutting the power in preparation for the Bostonius becoming Kat’s room. What Des described as a ‘rational and ordered’ usage of space in the panel looked like claustrophobic chaos to him. Paul would be the first to admit he didn’t understand delicate wiring like this as well as Des did, and the only person likely to understand the entirety of what was before him was the Des of twenty years ago that built the Bostonius.

“I’m gonna have to wake Des for this, forgot just how complicated he made this power system, I can’t make out where one wire starts and another ends,”

“No, I don’t want to wake him, what if he gets mad!”

Paul smiled at her, trying so damn hard to look comforting, “Kat, Des would rather we woke him up so he could fix it then leave the problem to get worse.”

“Just how urgent is this?” Alfendi asked as he rubbed Kat’s back to try and cheer her up.

“Nothing too bad yet, it's only live when the button is pushed so the circuit isn’t completed as is, and the inside of the control panel is insulated, but at the same time the entire ship is made of metal so I don’t want to risk any more live sparks, especially if this is a wear and tear problem, in which case it will keep getting worse at an exponential rate. It’s a good thing Kat found the problem now,”

“So I’m not in trouble for breaking it?” Katrielle sniffled.

“No Kat, you didn’t break it, the problem is with the wires getting old and it's a very good thing that you found the problem now so Des can fix it.”

Des was confused as to why anyone would interrupt his nap, but upon Paul’s quick explanation he was right to work, tying his hair up in his usual frayed bun, grabbing a pair of wire cutters and assessing the wiring in the ship.

“Ok, I’ve figured it out. The headlights of the ship still have live wires because they were retrofitted as overhead lights for the workshop, the rubber insulation on those wires are wearing out, so I need to replace them. Tearing out all this redundant wiring would also be a good idea while I’m in there, sparks are only happening because of the wire rubbing against some of the old components of the control panel.”

“Does that mean I can’t play with it anymore?”

“Of course not! I just need to take out the wires that aren’t doing anything, I’ll have a lot extra after all this...”

“The wires are good to reuse?” Alfendi was surprisingly interested in that.

“Not for anything vital or anything with a high voltage, but they’ll take a small charge fine, just need to find something to do with them.”

“So it’s fixed now?” Kat tried to peer in at the wiring from over Des’ shoulder.

“Fixed? I haven’t started! I just found out the exact cause of the problem. The actual repair will take most of the afternoon.”

Kat groaned. “Well, I’m gonna go play downstairs!” And with that, she was off, suddenly as happy as can be in the resilient way most kids were.

“I’ll keep her out of your bun while you work.” was all Paul added as he made his own departure.

“Alright, Al would you mind quickly running downstairs and grabbing my screwdrivers, this will be easier if I take the whole panel cover off.”

“No problem, and I have a suggestion on what to do with those extra wires if you’re interested.”

“Kid, I dare say I am.”

The wires from the Bostonius control panel were ripped out within the day, the only copper in place now for the ship’s headlights. Within the week the parts Des and Alfendi ordered had arrived, and together they began their project. Alfendi had confessed to not having any experience in tinkering or wiring before, but Des could recognize the boy had a natural talent for it.

“I mean, it’s just following the series of events. You begin with the power source and build out from there, every part has a purpose that you can manipulate and when you are finished it solidifies into one concrete reality.”

“I was honestly expecting a comparison to a puzzle.”

“God, and sound like Dad? If you want a good simple analogy I would go with a murder mystery. There is only one reality to the events that occurred, you just have to find all the pieces of evidence to guide you to the answer.”

“Now that's the last analogy I expected, but I do understand what you’re saying, even if I’d say engineering is a bit more creative than that. There’s no one perfect solution.”

“Of course there is, you just have to optimize.”

It was a long process, but not terribly complicated, and a good excuse for the two to chat. When they were finally done and had the paneling back in place they called Kat up.

Her face lit up brighter than the flashing lights and glowing buttons on the control panel.

Des was gathering up the last of his tools as he turned to her. “It’s all good for you to play with now Kat.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” She ran up and hugged his legs. Alfendi smiled as he watched.

Des chuckled, it had taken him a while to grow used to how trusting Kat was. “Thank your brother, he came up with the idea.” She immediately let go and turned to run and hug her brother at full speed. Alfendi kneeled down and caught her in his arms. 

“Thank you, Al!”

“It was no problem at all Kat,”

“You’re the best inventor in the whole world Al!”

Al chuckled. “Des is right there, and much higher in the ranks,”

“Nope!” She stepped out of their hug and looked him in the eyes with the biggest smile she could make. “You’re going to become the best inventor ever, because my gut says so, and my gut is never wrong!”

And who could argue with that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of the first things I started writing for this AU. I have actually forgotten if LBMR says that the Mystery Room was built by Al or not, but I run on the assumption that 1. It was 2. He invented the hologram technology in general and 3. The patent for that tech pays more than his actual job at Scotland Yard does.  
> I'll likely have a chapter dedicated to Alfendi creating the Mystery Room at some point the latter half of my planned chapters are just all Alfendi.


	4. Bostonius Back Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katrielle loves her new home because it comes with just as many new mysteries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update! I've got a lot of major exams coming up and while I don't necessarily need good results from them, I'm not going to Uni anytime soon, I do still need to keep up so I don't drag class averages down, which is a dumb system for deciding who gets a good ATAR. I can't promise another update in a timely manner, unless I get a lot of destress time during the trial exams.  
> Scary to think school is almost over for me.

Kat had fallen in love with her new room at Des and Paul’s place from the moment she first saw it. An airship’s hanging from the ceiling of the workshop. It was only the front half, and the cut wasn’t straight, but that didn’t quite matter when her room was the old control deck and she got to play with the front panel, did it?

“The ship was once called The Bostonius, I traveled the world with your Dad in here a long time ago.”

Kat loved The Bostonius. The main room had two decks, one higher at the control panel, a little set of stairs up to it on the right, and on the lower deck to the left was her bed. King-sized, with four tall posts to which the corners of a cheap fabric colored like a rainbow were tied, plastic poles in the sides keeping it in an upward arch. The lights had individual controls, so Kat would often turn off every light but the one above the bed, and look at the way the light changed as it shone through the sheet. Against the other wall was a desk, smaller than the one in Al’s room, but with a corkboard above that, she adorned in her drawings. A few purple couches littered the room as well, they were old but not worn by any means, just dusty. The bookshelves on the right side of the room by the door were big and mostly-empty, she would need to fill them soon. Bookshelves should always be filled to the point of overflowing, her Father never had spare space in his, and the weight caused the shelves to bend in a subtle curve. She loved that about her Father’s office, there never was a truly straight line.

The same could be said for the Bostonius. The walls curved as piping and plastic covers hiding electrical work divided the wall into sections just as often as the false wood paneling.

The last thing she loved about The Bostonius was the closet, right in the center of the back wall. It should have been where the split in the ship was, or at least the start of it. The wall of the closet was flat, not angled like she expected the wall to be with the way the ship was cut through and affixed to the warehouse wall when she looked from outside. The right side of the closet back wall should have been deeper than the left.

The unaccounted-for space bothered her. There must have been something beyond the wall and the answer as to what was quite the puzzle. She loved puzzles, difficult as they were. Alfendi was good at puzzles, but he complained about them the whole time he did them, so it followed that it was her job to solve any puzzles she found until Dad came back, regardless of how difficult they were.

Someone had to after all.

She remembered Paul getting into the control panel’s bottom access hatch. Surely it wasn’t the only one? If Des had to get into a place for repairs he would have an easy access hatch. She wasn’t sure what else needed repairing on the ship, though perhaps he had to repair the split on occasion, the ship couldn’t fly with its back half missing after all!

So, she delved into her closet with a flashlight in hand. It was admittedly much harder with how many dresses she had forgotten to hang up on the rack again after they had fallen down, but nothing a mini archeologist couldn’t handle! Did digging through old clothes to uncover secret entrances count towards archaeology? If not, maybe a mini detective was a better fit for her.

Regardless of her title, it was more than well-earned when her hands brushed against a deep indent in the bottom of the closet’s left wall. It was hard to get a proper grip, but the hatch popped out easily once she did. It was a surprisingly small gap, Des wouldn’t want to spend too much time peeking through it like he did with the control panel hatch, but beyond was a space large enough for her to stand freely. There were no windows, no light besides her flashlight illuminating the dust particles in the air.

It was a bedroom.

The bed was small, maybe smaller than the standard single, but the mattress was very comfortable and the blanket was heavy. There was also a desk, larger than hers, running parallel to the bed, barely enough room to walk between them. This room’s closet door was open, although where there may have once been clothes was now piles of notebooks and loose leaf papers. It was new, yet familiar. It wasn’t the same handwriting as her fathers, nor were the books bound the same way, but the notation style and diagrams and even some familiar phrases like ‘carbon dating’ were the same as her father’s own notebooks.

The desk had very few items left on it, a few pieces of scrap metal, worn tools, and a book.

Not a book. A photo album.

The top shelf of the closet held an old suitcase, a purple ribbon tied around the handle. She could never reach it without help.

She sat down on the bed with the photo album in her lap and flashlight in hand. There was a letter taped to the first page.

_Des,_

_It was good to see you again, yes, despite everything. I still consider you my brother and I’m sure we both don’t want to lose any more family than we already have, as difficult as you can make that at times._

_Seeing as I have an address to write to you now, I feel it's time I finally sent you these. Emmy’s photos from our trip, She got them all developed before she left, and I felt it best to make copies for you._

_I understand not wanting to dwell on what happened, but between it all there were three months of good moments for us to remember, I feel it would be a disservice to her to forget it all._

_Hope to speak with you more soon,_

_Hershel,_

Kat had never really asked how Des and Paul knew her father. It felt like Flora and Alfendi avoided talking about it with her when they first moved in. Based on this letter, Des really is her Uncle, not just someone she called Uncle, like Randall and Henry. Why hadn’t anyone told her? What was her Dad talking about in this letter? What happened on that trip?

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them! She loved Des and Paul, they were the best uncles she could ask for, but everyone seemed so intent on keeping her out of the loop about how Des and Paul knew her Dad. It was just teasing her with yet another puzzle she had to solve, after all, she was Hershel Layton’s daughter!

And if she had to be a bit sneaky to find her answer, so be it. This letter alone already got her further than asking Flora ever had!

She put a hold on her frustration, Al always said her anger was capable of burning a house down, and the photo album in her hand was much more flammable than any set of brick walls.

It was small, only one photo on each page. The first was of the Bostonius, the whole ship. She noticed it didn’t have wings in the photo as it did on one side now. Instead, there was a giant balloon, she hadn’t known the airship was a zeppelin. The next photo was of father and Luke aboard the ship, Dad tipping his hat to the photographer- Emmy from the letter, most likely- Luke was about the same age she was now, bouncing on a familiar purple couch. The next photo was of a frozen town, another shot of the town, this one with Luke in the shot looking at the frozen river through the village from a bridge.

More photos, environment shots, a mountain range, a cave. A shot of a new dark figure silhouetted by a blue wall of ice that seemed to glow. He was vaguely familiar.

The next series of photos was aboard the Bostonius again. Candids of the crew, an older man at the control panel, Dad peeking over to watch him work. Luke was sitting on the couch with two figures, a young girl in a lavender dress and a man in a dark suit.

Des.

It didn’t really look like him all that much. The charcoal suit and red tie, the crimson glasses, the hair curled into tangles at the ends, none of that were her Des.

Her Des wore sweaters that he never noticed the oil stains on until he was wearing them, which annoyed him to no end. Her Des’ hair was frayed chaos that went down past his shoulders whenever it wasn’t pulled up into a bun as he worked.

But she recognized that proud smile and crimson eyes. He made it a lot when he spoke with her. He made it with the girl in the lavender dress too, why had no one mentioned this girl to her before?

She pulled the photo out of the plastic sleeve of the photo album for a closer look. On the back, she found her father’s handwriting.

_“Crew of The Bostonius, second day of the search for the Azran Eggs,_

_Pictured: Aurora, Raymond, Des, Luke Triton and Hershel Layon, photo taken by Emmy Altava”_

It was odd, her father always wrote full names, said it was a habit picked up from writing so many documents and dissertations where specification was key, especially when so many historical figures shared last names with many others. And to write the full names of only half the crew?

This puzzle just kept getting more complicated. She wouldn’t solve it all now, not without help. Asking Des wouldn’t be solving the puzzle at all, just having it all explained to her, or if he really didn’t want her to know, he would hide the pieces she needed. Paul would just tell Des and leave the decision to him. Al would just be annoyed by the whole affair and depending on what he knows might just go to Des anyway.

She was on her own with this puzzle for now. Her first task for solving it?

Maybe grow a bit taller. The suitcase with the ribbon on the wardrobe's top shelf seemed to call to her, she knew it had the answers, but she had no hope of reaching it now and she couldn’t squeeze a chair through the access hatch to stand on. Maybe jumping off the edge of the bed would work, but not until she grew a bit more and it was a risky move, she had no clue how heavy that suitcase was and jumping in the Bostonius made a lot of noise in the warehouse from what Al complained about, she doesn't want them to find out she was snooping, she also didn't want to get hurt where they couldn't find her.

So, this puzzle would go unsolved for a while yet.


	5. Dress Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat wasn't always all sunshine and rainbows, but her brother and uncles would drop everything to cheer her up. If only they could figure out how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kat has to get her love of fashion from somewhere. Also I am here for the eyeliner Alfendi agenda and you can't stop me.  
> Also haven't reread the second half at all yet cause it's 1am but I really want to post now left you all waiting long enough.

Katrielle liked dressing up. 

Flora on occasion took her and Al out for dinner, and when she did getting dressed up with Des help was half the fun of the night. Some days when Al was noticeably grumpier than usual she would steal one of his big coats and do impressions of him. He tried to look exasperated, but she could always see that small smile of his break through as she faked tripping on the edge of his jackets. 

One night she had once again taken Al’s blue coat and began teasing him whilst Paul had been making dinner. Paul laughed along to Al’s chagrin. Des decreed that next time he would style her hair to look like Al’s, or he’d get a wig she could use whenever the mood struck.

Katrielle’s own bad days were much farther between, but they did happen. Al could pick up on them like a sixth sense, immediately going to make something sweet for breakfast when he woke up despite his own preference for more bitter tastes. Kat’s bad days were as random as waking up on the wrong side of the bed could be, but Des and Paul could just watch out for what Al did and spitball from there.

She would wake up, grumpily eat whatever sugar ladened pancakes Al had managed to pull together, and Des would try and find her something to do to distract her from her thoughts. First suggestion was often music, she had been learning a few instruments that caught her interest from Des and Paul’s large supply. Des had always known a fair bit of the piano, Paul knew his way around a drumset and Alfendi was taking to guitar like a fish to water, despite Paul's jabs about when he would learn to play Wonderwall. Al decided he would one day learn it out of spite for the comments.

Katrielle tried a few things, brass instruments like the trumpet and saxophone first. Paul was able to give her advice there. She also tried the bass guitar, which Des was fast to help her in. None of them fit quite right. Drums she was a fair amount better with, but the oddest one was the novelty harmonica she had found. They weren’t sure where she came across it, it was more a cheap plastic toy than a proper instrument, but she picked it up fast on her own and loved playing it. Des and Paul planned to buy her a proper ten-hole one and some books about learning to play for her upcoming twelfth birthday.

When music failed to cheer her up, Alfendi tried reading to her. She normally loved the stories in the hardback books he kept on his desk's shelf, but when she was in a bad mood even they didn't seem to budge her, but it was the only other thing he could think of to do.

After two months of brick walls whenever Kat turned sour, Des finally came to an answer for her bad days.

"Kat, do you want to play dress up?"

Alfendi's eyes lit up when he said it. How the hell had he never thought of it before! Yet Paul in that moment seemed to be the most excited of the group, running back up to the loft to get a some clothes together for whatever chaos the family brought.

Kat- in her bad mood- seemed skeptical, but guided Al by the hand up to her bedroom so she could rifle through her closet for good outfits. At Des' command Al ran back down to grab some of his heavy coats from his own room, and Des pulled together a large array of his old wigs, brushes, gels and ribbons. The irony of his skill with a hairdresser's scissors in contrast with his own frayed hair was not lost on anyone in the family.

Paul returned with a sizeable old trunk. Des knew it as Paul's old disguise kit, cleaned out a few odd times in the last decade. No longer were there any rubber masks, but the less distinctive clothes and props remained. Kat moved to open it and was taken aback by all the little shelves and trays that raised up with the opening lid, slowly closing and opening the chest again to watch the mechanism, then she realised the others we're all watching her and moved along. 

In the trays was something just as interesting, makeup. She had never worn much of it before, she had found a few bottles of cheap nail polish before and made a mess, a few other cheap bits and bobs people gave to young girls because they assumed all girls enjoyed them. Paul's chest contained the most makeup she had ever seen. Foundations, eyeshadows, lipsticks and a set of eyeliners, the darkest shade of black an inch shorter than the rest.

Paul smirked at her expression "We could try doing your makeup if you want?"

Des pulled out some various gels and a brush "Your hair too,"

"Flora is coming over tonight, I'm sure she'd be very impressed." Alfendi hadn't looked up from the makeup trays, but his smile was plain on his face.

"Yes, help me pick a dress Al!" She hadn't even finished before she was dragging Alfendi away by the arm to her closet. Des lingered behind them as she tore through her various dresses and stockings.  
"These tights are nice, oh and this undershirt! But this hairclip is nice too.. Oh, and this hat, but the green doesn't go nice with the red, Al what do you think?"

Alfendi gave a cocksure smirk as he inspected the red beret and green hairclip. "Defintely can't do red with green, it'll look like you're ready for Christmas in July, but it's August."

"This is hard," She looked down at the beret and hairclip with a puzzled expression, "Des how do you normally pick out clothes for me?"

"Well, whenever we're going out, I ask you to pick out one thing you want to wear that night, and I get an outfit together based on that."

"So, just pick one thing I really really like first?"

"Yep, pick one item and build the outfit around that."

"Okay, I..." She looked around her closet. Her dresses were all hung up and the color was just a bit too intimidating to search through now. Her hats often fell off the rack and littered the floor, so it was just as hard to pick just one standout among them. Her scarves seemed to blend together and her shirts were hard to parse through folded and overflowing from her wardrobe. Then she noticed her small box utop the wardrobe, packed with buttons, pins and broaches, a gift from Aunt Angela. The first one her eye was drawn to among them was a broach of a little bottle, a wide spherical design with a large baby pink topper to contrast the sky blue of the mock glass. "I- I want to wear this pin!"

"Alright, so now you want to look through your closet and find things with the same colors. Would you want more blues or more pinks, you can choose the other as a secondary color,"

"More pink, like this dress!" She grasped the edge of a baby pink button-up dress, jumping to get it unhooked from the rack. Alfendi quickly took hold of the hanger, holding up for Des and Kat to assess in full. Kat pointed at the dress' left collar, "I'll put the broach there!"

Alfendi looked at a some blue fabric spilling out of the wardrobe. A paper label on the drawer said 'shirts'. "The collar sits pretty low, so you can wear a top underneath to bring some more blue into the outfit."

"You're eyes are a bright blue too, so that brings the color out as well,"

Paul called out from where he was digging through his trunk "Some darker brown eyeshadow will help with that!"

Kat looked confused for a moment, "How does that work?". Wouldn't it be better to do pink eyeshadow to fit the broach.

Paul smiled and beckoned her over. He pulled out a little sheet of paper with a circle drawn on it in many colors from the trunk. "This is a color wheel, a good way to bring out your eyecolor is to find it on the wheel and use a neutral toned color that sits on the opposite side of the wheel. Blues are opposite of oranges, so a darker orange-brown will make your blue eyes seem much brighter."

Kat's little smile looking at the chart got brighter and brighter as she thought on it more. She hadn't known there was such a simple way to pick nice looking colors!

"So colors opposite of each other make them both look brighter?"

"Generally yes, but there is no rules with color. The wheel just helps you when you're stuck."

"Kat!" Alfendi was digging through the wardrobe some more, "Do you want some leggings underneath the dress too?"

She thought for a moment, "My blue ones!"

Al chuckled, "On it, you little diva."

Des hung up the dress with its broach on the hook on the outside of the closet door. "Flora isn't going to be here for a few hours yet, but we could try doing your nails now. We have this nice one, clear with bits of blue glitter,"

"Can I do them?"

"Of course, I'll get it set up downstairs, just change into an old shirt and shorts first, polish is hard to wash out of fabrics, tell me if you get any on the table too."

There were a few drops on the table, but Des dutifully cleaned them as Kat did two layers of the glittery polish. It took her longer than she thought, it was hard to stop it from getting on her skin and she would quickly wipe her progress away with paper towels. The fact it was clear helped, the spots where the polish was too thin were much harder to see. She marveled at how smooth it dried too, she expected the texture to be much rougher considering the texture of the glitter. She was proud and exhausted by the work, a nap didn't feel like a bad choice.

When she woke up it was to find Flora would be coming in just an hour! Did she really sleep that long? 

"Best get in the shower now if you want to have your makeup done by the time she gets here" was all Paul had to say as he saw her come down the stairs. Des looked up from the dishes he was washing in the kitchenette, "Put your hair in a shower cap too! I'll do it up when you come out," 

She ran into the bathroom and quickly pushed out Alfendi, who had been messing around with one of Paul's eyeliners. As she shut the door behind him she could hear Paul assess his work. "Not bad kid, just got to try and keep the length even on each eye. Easier to do a long line then wipe away with a wetwipe too,"

Shoving her hair into the cap was tough, but she found tying it in a ponytail first helped. She washed up quickly and came out in the same old shirt and shorts, the dress was still in her room.

Al was already there, having set up a little table and two chairs for her and Paul, and looking closely into his own handmirror as he tried another shade of eyeliner, a crimson compared to the black he attempted with earlier. Already a selection of eyeshadows, brushes and ribbons were lined up for her on the table with a mirror. She took her seat quickly as she heard two sets of steps coming up the clanging steps to her room.

Des stepped into place behind her to begin brushing her hair, "How do you want your hair done Kat?" He pulled it around into a few different styles "Pulled back into a ponytail, or loose? We can have some is loose infront of your ears or clip that back, same with your bangs,"

"A high ponytail! And keep some hanging down in front of my ears. I want my bangs going to the left too!" 

"An excellent choice, I'll clip the bangs back for now so Paul can do your eyeshadow."

Paul meanwhile was selecting a few different shades of brown eyeshadow. "Could you hold your wrist out Kat? I want to test these shades," as she did Paul just did a small line of the color on her wrist, blending it as he went. He did more as he explained, "When doing eyeshadow you most often do two colors, a light tone as a base then blending in a darker tone at the edges, gives depth to the color. I think these two should work," he pointed to one of the tones he swatched on her wrist first, and one more to the centre of the group he had done."

"I agree!" Kat barely stopped herself from nodding her head, aware of Des' work brushing her hair as the conversation continued.

"Then close your eyes, but try not to squint, and a warning that this will tickle." It did, she giggled as the brush began gently wiping across her eyelid, but she held strong and refused to open her eyes and check how she looked in the mirror. "Okay, you can have a look now," and she opened her eyes to check the mirror. Paul had only done her left eye, and it seemed so much brighter than her right! She knew her eyes weren't suddenly different colors, but the illusion was there. Des gently tapped her shoulder, "While you've got your eyes open, what do you think, blue or pink ribbon?" He held the two ribbons up, the blue one was very thick, while the pink was much thinner, and she found she wanted a smaller ribbon to not take eyes away from her eyes. "Pink please!"

"Alright, pink it is" "Close your eyes again please," "Where do you keep the foundation Paul?" "Trunk, lowest tray on the left side," "You having fun there Al?" "Oh cram it Des," Kat giggled, and it wasn't because she was ticklish this time.

Flora arrived to find Des finishing up Dinner, Paul grabbing out plates and Al pulling out the fold-down table they kept around for nights when the low table and couches just didn't do. It struck her as odd, normally that was Kat's job. Then she heard the creak of footsteps on the Bostonius stairs and looked up to find Kat running down the stairs and scaffolding. If she hadn't heard her steps first she would have been taken aback by her yell of "Flora!"

Clearly those loud steps were common enough they didn't register in the warehouse's residents, and Paul doubled over at the shout with a "you're going to give me a heart attack kid," and Des dropped the tongs full of salad he had been holding, luckily right back into the salad bowl rather than the floor.

It was when she reached the ground floor that Flora noticed her hair had been done up, but before she could look any closer Kat had ran into her for a hug. After the hug was when Kat started jumping around, demanding her to "look! Look!"

Flora put a hand on her shoulder and knelt down to look closer, "Hold still and I will." She noticed a deeper shade above her eyes, "Have you got makeup on?"

"Uncle Paul taught me, and Uncle Des did my hair and nails, everyone helped with picking out the dress too!"

"You must have had a busy day Kat,"

"Yeah, but you just got here, so it's just getting started,"

Al turned his head away from the chairs he was lugging to the dining table, "It's five in the afternoon Kat."

"That only matters if you decide it does," 

"I don't think you'll convince her otherwise Al, now come and grab your plates everyone,"

Flora did a double take as she saw Al again "Do you have eyeliner on?"

He noticeably stood taller, "So what if I do?" 

Paul shoved past him to get his plate, "Just don't use all of my black one kid,"

And as Kat skipped over to the kitchenette to get her dinner from Des, it was impossible to tell this had started as one of her bad days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it took me to update again, I have officially graduated high school now! This chapter was quite a battle to get done and I wanted to have it before I moved on to a few other stories ideas that happen as people get older (to give you an idea Al is 18 or so here, and I have a chapter for his 21st birthday planned). Luckily inspiration for this chapter came from an unlikely place, I realized that no one ever taught me about makeup as a kid, so I spent most of the day of my graduation formal (all Covid safe don't worry) trying to teach myself how to do foundations and eyeshadows. The bit about nail polish is basically a word for word breakdown of my own conclusions after trying it myself.


End file.
